Heart and Soul
by owlpostagain
Summary: Demyx wants the quiet, mysterious drummer boy, and Axel wants his emopunkboyband-obsessed best friend. How to kill two birds with one stone? Start a band. Companion one-shot to Alive With the Glory of Love. Zemyx.


This is the Zemyx companion piece to "Alive With the Glory of Love," A. because I loved that story and wanted to play with it a little more, and B. because the world needs more quality Zemyx lovin.

I acknowledge the fact that this is cheesy as shit. I also acknowledge the fact that Zexion falls increasingly further and further out of character as the story progresses. I've decided that I don't particularly care. I like my Zexion. He's a cutie.

Further disclaimer: I am not a musician. I was in marching band for four years, but I spun flags. The closest I got to musicianship was my obsessive stalking of the drumline. Don't judge me for my horrendous understanding of music and bands.

Things I Own: One (autographed) drumstick, an acoustic guitar I don't know how to play, a cheesypop Friday Night playlist, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind on DVD

Things I Don't Own: All of the hot, sexy, Organization XIII members mentioned in this story. And, you know, those other kids too.

Also; the song "I Saw It On Your Keyboard" is by Hellogoodbye and belongs to them entirely. I just like playing it on repeat.

---

_There exists a melody that just might change your mind.  
Oh, if only I knew the key to sing to make you mine._

---

Demyx hid behind the rack of loose drumsticks, peering through an empty barrel at the drum set in the center of the store. This was the third time this week the kid with the slate gray hair had shown up, settling himself reverently into the stool in front of the kit. Demyx watched the way the other boy ran his fingertips over the carefully polished rims, drummed his nails lightly on the perfectly balanced cymbal. He didn't know that Demyx had spent half an hour earlier making sure the entire thing was _perfect_, just in case he came back, but the blond was pleased at the silent appreciation nonetheless.

Today was the day he was going to talk to him. He decided that ten minutes before the store opened that morning, strumming idly on a spare guitar as he waited for the hour to hit. The gray-haired kid was the most beautiful creature Demyx had ever seen, and if he showed up again today, Demyx would take it as a sign and talk to him.

What he was going to _say_, however, was an entirely different matter. He glanced around the store, mind suddenly blank, panic mode on, grasping for something communicative to appear before his eyes or fall from the ceiling. His sea foam gaze fell on the rack in front of him, a slow smile suddenly appearing on his face. He grabbed a pair of the highest quality sticks and shuffled out from behind the display, twiddling them nervously between his fingers.

"You know, it's alright if you want to play. This is just a floor sample anyway, no one minds if you bang it up a little bit."

The shorter boy tilted his head slowly up to him, peering at the blond with one gray eye, the other obscured by a sheet of silvery hair. He silently held a hand out for the drumsticks Demyx was fiddling with, curling his fingers around them carefully the second the blond employee pressed them into his hand.

"Thank you," the boy said quietly, looking back down at the snare cradled between his knees. It was the first time Demyx had heard him speak.

"I'm Demyx. Just let me know if you need help with anything, yeah?"

The drummer nodded once and Demyx retreated, able to recognize a dismissal when he saw one. He settled himself behind the counter instead; content to sit and polish the flutes in the display case, a job he could do sufficiently while still watching the gray eyed boy at the drum set. He watched unabashedly, safe in the knowledge that the boy had his back to him, studying the way he cradled the sticks expertly, adjusted the height of the stands, smoothed the skin stretched over taut over the drum. He twirled one stick idly in his left hand, and Demyx productivity slowed to a near halt as he watched the other boy's muscles twitch in his pale, smooth forearm. And then he began to play.

Demyx had worked at Arpeggio since the day he'd been legally old enough to get a part time job, and was a regular customer long before that. This kid was hands down the _best_ drummer, possibly one of the best _musicians_, Demyx had ever heard play here. He stifled a groan in the polish rag, an action he immediately regretted as the fowl tasting silver polish bit at his tongue. The slate-haired boy couldn't _possibly_ be more perfect.

He played for almost exactly an hour, a wide variety of styles ranging from full set drum features to nature effects on the high hats. Demyx polished approximate one third of one flute over the course of that hour, unable to tear his gaze away from the kit long enough to find the center piece of the flute in the display case. The kid was a _god_.

At four on the dot he rose from his seat, dragging one hand lightly over the set as he turned to face Demyx at the register. The blond immediately busied himself with the overly-polished mouthpiece already in his hands, carefully not watching the shorter boy walk carefully to the register.

"I seem to have dented your sticks. I can pay for them, if you like." The drummer's voice was soft, calm, but nothing that Demyx would ever call monotonous. Every syllable rose and fell with a succinct, measured beat, his voice easily resembling his drumming. Demyx stared down at the sticks cupped in the long, pale fingers, gazing unseeingly at the nicks and chips marring the smooth wood.

"Are you going to come back and play again?"

The one visible eye peered cautiously up and Demyx, sizing up the blond in mere seconds.

"If I may. I no longer have my own set."

"Of course you can. Listen, why don't I just hold on to these sticks for you, that way you can just use the same pair whenever you come play?"

The drummer raised an eyebrow, gray eye recalculating as he considered the careful, friendly smile on Demyx' tan face. He glanced back down at the sticks in his left hand, caressing the tips lightly with his free fingers.

"Thank you, Demyx. That's very nice of you."

Demyx flushed, _beyond _thrilled that the other boy remembered his name.

"No problem…"

"Zexion."

"No problem, Zexion. I'm here more often than not, just come find me if you want them."

The corner of Zexion's lip quirked briefly, the closest to a smile the blond had seen on the shorter boy's face, and he nodded once before breaking eye contact with the cashier. He pressed the sticks carefully down on the counter, turned quietly on his heel, and left without a backwards glance. Demyx watched him leave with a smile so wide his eyes were slightly squinted. He finally had a name.

---

True to his word, Zexion did come back to the shop. He came like clockwork, 3:00 on the dot every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a month straight, playing for exactly one hour. Sometimes, when Demyx was particularly lucky, he could get the slate haired boy to talk to him, other days Zexion remained impassive and silent as he wordlessly held out a hand for his sticks.

Demyx didn't mind the quiet days as long as they didn't outweigh the days he managed to prod a few sentences out of the shorter boy. He slowly, cautiously, worked the important information out of the drummer; he was a junior at Hollow Bastion University, a Chemical Engineer like a few of Axel's friends. He'd been playing music since he was six; classically trained in piano and cello, though he far preferred the drums to anything else. Demyx was fairly certain that Zexion could own his heart and soul, if he didn't already. The drummer only confirmed this theory when he silently joined the blond in a surprisingly out of character duet one afternoon, wordlessly sliding onto the piano bench next to Demyx and playing the back-up to "Heart and Soul's" melody. It was the first time Zexion had smiled at Demyx, who was pretty sure his heart skipped multiple beats. He needed to do something about this, and soon.

"We need to come up with a plan."

Axel glanced up from the bathroom sink, studying his roommate's reflection in the mirror. Demyx lounged casually in the doorway, stifling the urge to giggle at the streak of purple dye staining the taller boy's neck.

"What kind of plan, Dem?"

"We're both desperate."

"Hey, speak for –"

"We're both desperate. You've been angsting over your little closet case for months now, and I'm going to get_ fired_ if I don't stop rearranging my work schedule to fit Zexion's appearance."

"I _told_ you Demyx, Roxas is not a closet case."

"He has a poster of _Jared Leto_ hanging next to his bed, Axel. Even _you_ aren't that gay, and you spend hours on your hair on the regular."

"Maybe he just likes 30 Seconds to Mars. What do you want me to do, Dem, start a band, get famous, and hope that one day he hangs a poster of me next to Jared's pretty face?"

"…Axel…"

Axel's head snapped up at the blond's tone, green eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Demyx' expression in the mirror.

"No. No way Demyx, not happening. No. No no no no – "

"But it's _brilliant_, Ax. We start a band. Ask Zexion to join. Get one of your friends to host a party, make Roxas go. Kill two birds with one stone. Then we'll both be happy!"

"Because what, Roxas is just going to swoon at my feet the second I say I'm in a band? I don't even play an instrument."

But Demyx was on a roll now, breathless with excitement at his most brilliant idea ever.

"You can sing though. You're a damn good singer, and I can play the guitar, and we can ask Zexion to play the drums, which gives me an excuse to get to know him better. It's _perfect_ Axel."

Axel looked wretchedly torn between exasperation and amusement. He turned to face his roommate head on; expression softening at the puppy dog pout Demyx was laying on as thickly as he possibly could. The purple-haired boy sighed.

"Fine. _If_ you actually grow a pair and ask Zexion, and _if_ he says yes, and _if_ we sound halfway decent, then I will _consider it_. Now get out, I need to wash this dye out or all my pretty hair will fall out."

"It's a wonder Roxas hasn't figured out what a flaming homosexual you are yet," Demyx snorted as Axel slammed the door in his face, turning on his heel and walking away. Still, he could barely restrain himself from doing a victory dance down the hallway. This was going to work _perfectly_.

---

"I have…something of a proposition for you. Although I suppose it's not a proposition, _really_, since you don't actually get anything out of it, so I guess it's really just a favor…"

Zexion arched an eyebrow as Demyx trailed off, blushing. He was rambling.

"My, uh, my roommate, Axel. He's got this _huge_ thing for his best friend, like totally pining after him every day for the last _three years_. He swears Roxas is straight, but I think that Roxas just needs to see Axel in the right light, because _let me tell you_ that boy is –"

"Your point, Demyx?" The slate haired boy's tone was cold, but his face betrayed his amusement. Demyx' blush deepened.

"Sorry. Anyway…Roxas totally has a closet thing for emo punkrock singers, so I think that Axel and me should start a band, see if that does anything to grab Rox' attention."

"You want to start a band in hopes that your roommate's presumably straight best friend notices that your roommate looks hot as a musician?" Zexion's voice was laced with disbelief, but the corner of his lip quirked up with the barest hint of a smile.

"Uh…yeah. I guess."

"And how, exactly, would you like me to help?"

Demyx gnawed on his lip, glancing down at the sticks the drummer was twirling between his knuckles.

"Well…Axel's not a half bad singer, and I play a whole slew of different band-appropriate instruments, but neither of us is much with a pair of drumsticks and, well, you're kind of a drumming god."

Zexion remained silent as Demyx fixed his gaze firmly on the sticks now pressed flat to the counter top, held in place by long, thin fingers. The blond pulled his at his bottom lip with his teeth, waiting for the drummer in question to say something. When he finally looked up, unable to stand the unbearable silence, Zexion was watching him with a small but distinct smile on his face. As Demyx met his eyes the shorter boy shook his hair out of his face, revealing both silver eyes for the first time Demyx could remember. The smile grew infinitesimally wider, and Demyx couldn't help but to smile back.

"Yes, alright. Why not."

---

Demyx surveyed the scene before him with a barely concealed grimace on his face, brain scrambling desperately for some kind of solution to salvage this steaming heap of disaster staring him back. Axel, it would seem, had forgone the bed entirely and woken up on the wrong side of the _world_ today and was being the snarkiest little _bastard_ about everything under the sun, and Zexion hadn't sad a single word since he walked in the door. He sat behind the kit Demyx had squeezed into his already cluttered room, lips pressed into a tight, thin line that seemed to get thinner every time Axel opened his own. Demyx worst _nightmare_ hadn't been as awkward as this.

The blond hugged the guitar cradled between his knees, flexing his fingers convulsively over the edge of the neck. He wracked his brain desperately, begging, pleading with some subconscious _something_ to save the day before the entire afternoon, not to mention _any_ already slim chance he'd had with the slate haired boy, went entirely up in flames.

His hands were moving of their own accord as his mind whirled, and he didn't realize that they were coaxing sounds from the strings until a second noise filled the air; a gentle beat supporting his notes. The guitarist opened the eyes he hadn't realized he'd been squeezing so tightly shut, glancing around the crammed space of his bedroom/personal music studio. Zexion had stopped twirling the drumsticks in his hands; instead they were flying over the drum set in a soft replica of the background beat to Dem's guitar. Axel had fallen silent mid-rant.

When he finally opened his mouth again, it was not to continue his scathing evaluation of Demyx' living space as a fit place for company, but to feed the lyrics into the growing melody, his voice softer and lower than it had been moments before. The purple-haired boy lay back against Demyx' bed without missing a beat, looking calm for the first time all afternoon. Demyx felt himself grin in personal victory.

The song trailed off of its own accord, but the silence that filled the room in its absence was infinitely more bearable than the previous awkward tension. Axel smiled sheepishly from his place next to Demyx.

"Thanks, Dem," he said quietly. "Sorry. I got off the phone with Roxas like five minutes before you two got here. He's blowing me off tonight to go see that new vampire crap movie with some chick."

Well. That didn't forgive his attitude, but it certainly explained it. Demyx and Zexion exchanged looks, and the blond was pleased to see that some of the tension had left the smaller boy's shoulders.

"Tell him he's even more of a flaming fag than you are. On the bright side, I thought that just sounded pretty good."

"We need a bass player."

Both boys sitting on the bed glanced up at the drummer; it was the first time he'd spoken since he'd set foot in their door. Demyx face fell slightly, but Zexion's sharp eyes were contemplative, not judgmental.

"Forgot that part in your little scheme, didn't you Dem? Oh well, too bad we don't know any bass players but you, and your hands are busy. Shame, guess that means no band."

"Oh good, so now Roxas can go see more vampire movies and boys in eyeliner while he pretends to be straight, and you can jerk off until your arm falls off because you haven't gotten laid in three years."

Axel snorted and opened his mouth, but Zexion cut him off. Demyx savored the look on Axel's face as the smaller boy spoke.

"I can ask around. In the mean time, we could record you playing, Demyx, and then just play it back while we play live. Just as a temporary solution, of course."

Axel looked as though he had just received a summons to summer school; Demyx could have _sang_. Zexion hadn't jumped on the opportunity to squash his hideously outrageous idea; on the contrary, he'd encouraged the band's continued progress. The blond had never wanted to kiss the other boy so badly.

"Well, that settles that then."

"No. No it doesn't. I said I'd consider it, and I've considered. No."

"Fine. But consider one more thing, Ax, and if you still don't like the picture then I'll let it go."

Zexion's visible eye narrowed at the guitarist's words, but Demyx wasn't quite sure why. He forged on regardless, leaning over the singer still sprawled on his back.

"Picture the look on Roxas' face, Axel, as you stand there in your little all black emo shit and sing the opening verse of Alive With the Glory of Love. Isn't that his favorite song?"

Axel didn't move, and Demyx held his breath, eyes trained steadily on the other boy's tattooed cheeks. A single green eye cracked open and Demyx knew the singer was _sold_. He grinned.

"Fine, Dem. One show, and we'll see how it goes. But we gotta call this shit quits for today, the awkward sexual tension in here is going to smother and choke me. Nice to meet you, Zex."

Blushing like a virgin in a strip club, Demyx avoided looking at Zexion as his roommate hopped off the bed and stomped out of the room, just barely slamming the door behind him. The blond tightened his fingers around the neck of his guitar, absentmindedly plucking at random strings. The tension in the room was suddenly unbearable again. Silence settled over them, but neither boy made an attempt to get up.

"So you play guitar and bass. What else?"

Demyx glanced up. Zexion had settled his sticks against the rim of the snare drum, his silver gaze leveled on the blond sitting on the edge of the bed. His face was impassive, but Demyx could see the nervous twist of fingers in the drummer's lap. It was the first time the slate haired boy had ever initiated conversation with him.

"All of this," Demyx gestured around his extremely crowded room, "except that." He pointed at the drum set Zexion was seated behind.

The smaller boy glanced around the room, taking survey of the instruments hanging from the walls, crammed into corners, stuffed onto shelves. Apart from the acoustic guitar cradled in the blond's lap was a keyboard propped against the wall, two electric guitars, a bass guitar, a fiddle, a sitar, a ukulele, a saxophone, two harmonicas, and an ocarina. Zexion raised an eyebrow.

"The saxophone seems out of place." He commented dryly, staring at the instrument tucked deep into one corner. Demyx rubbed the back of his neck, blushing.

"When…uh…when I was in high school there was this guy…well, he was in marching band, and they needed a few extra saxophones, so…"

The blond was shocked, but pleasantly surprised, to see the small quirk of Zexion's lips, as though the boy might smile. Demyx opened his mouth, but the door flew open before he could get the words out.

"My room is really, really boring," Axel said casually, throwing himself back down on Demyx' bed. "Besides, Leon just called. He's having a party in two weeks, wanted to know if you'd DJ, Dem. I told him that you were too busy angsting over your new queercore band and he wants us to play. So. Rehearsal time?"

---

"Axel told Roxas yesterday."

Zexion glanced up from under his fringe, silver eyes falling on the boy next to him on the piano bench. Demyx was still looking at the keys, feeling out the melody to a Hellogoodbye song he'd heard on the way to work. The two were sitting side by side at a keyboard towards the back of the shop, fingers occasionally dancing over the black and white keys. The band, still nameless, had practiced three more times since Axel's announcement, and while Zexion hadn't exactly _opened up_ to the blond, he was certainly more relaxed than he had been before. He didn't even flinch when Demyx accidentally nudged their shoulders together.

"Oh? What did he say?"

"Apparently the kid fell off the damn couch."

Demyx snorted, and out of the corner of his teal blue eyes he could see the corner of Zexion's lips quirked slightly. Axel had insisted that Roxas was obviously just surprised that his best friend would do something so heinously stupid, but _Demyx_ had insisted it was because Roxas' had conjured a mental image of Axel in guyliner. He told Zexion as much, and the slate haired boy's smirk only grew wider. Demyx felt accomplished.

"We need a name before Friday."

Demyx glanced at the boy next to him, fingers stalling on the keys under them. Zexion ignored his gaze as the silver eyed boy got to his feet and crossed the room, fingers tapping across the necks of the collection of acoustic guitars until he found the one he knew to be Demyx' favorite. He separated it from the group and brought it back to the keyboard, gently shoving Demyx hands from the keys and pressing the guitar into his lap instead. Demyx wordlessly adjusted himself on the bench, turning his back to Zexion as the smaller boy shifted his own hands to the keyboard, fiddling with the tones. Demyx waited for him to elaborate.

"I thought about it in class the other day."

Demyx raised an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder, and the slate haired boy _definitely_ had a faint blush staining his cheeks.

"Did you think of anything worth sharing with the class?" He teased, turning back to the guitar before the other boy could catch him looking. He felt, rather than saw, Zexion shrug his shoulders.

"Maybe…I don't really know where this came from…maybe a song or a poem that I read once, but it just…"

Zexion's fingers tapped a nervous pattern against the edge of the piano bench they were sitting on, and without conscious thought Demyx reached down and tangled the fingers with his own, squeezing lightly. Zexion immediately froze, and Demyx, realizing what he'd just done, blushed profusely and dropped his hand from the other boy's immediately. Zexion's shoulder sagged slightly against his back. He cleared his throat after a moment.

"Well?" Demyx prodded gently. He controlled the twitch in his hand only by wrapping his fingers around the neck of his guitar.

"Melodious Nocturne."

Zexion's voice was barely audible; if Demyx hadn't been perfectly still, straining to hear it, he would have missed it entirely. The blond tossed the words around in his head, throwing them into sentences, moving his lips to the feel of them rolling off his tongue. There was something about them, something nagging very slightly at the back of his thoughts.

"If you don't like it –"

"It's perfect."

Demyx turned, twisting his torso so the upper half of his body faced the boy at his back. The faint tinge of pink had returned to Zexion's cheeks, but so had the small smile to his lips.

"It's perfect, Zexion. Really. I love it."

The drummer's blush deepened, his gaze firmly on the keyboard in front of him. He tested the keys experimentally, fingers dancing across a few light notes. The instrument now had a tinny, slightly electronic edge to its sound, much closer to the song Demyx had been attempting to play earlier. Zexion nudged his shoulder against Demyx gently, and the blond smirked as he turned back around towards the guitar in his lap. Apparently the conversation was over.

He tried the song from this angle instead, and the changing of instruments had apparently been all that was needed for the notes to fall together effortlessly. Demyx whispered the words quietly, the sounds low under his breath as he kept time with Zexion.

"There exists a melody that just might change your mind. Oh if only I knew the key to sing to make you mine."

---

Demyx found Axel and Zexion sitting on the back of the makeshift stage in Leon's living room ten minutes before they were supposed to start playing. Axel, pale face even _paler_ under his freshly red hair, looked tense and anxious, pointedly ignoring the _overwhelming_ number of people crammed into Leon's tiny apartment as he sucked on a cigarette. Zexion, to Demyx' utter amazement, looked entirely nonplussed by the situation.

"How are you not nervous?" He hissed, dropping himself into the empty space next to the drummer. Zexion shrugged a loose shoulder, and Demyx realized that he really, _genuinely_ was unfazed by the scene before them.

"I've been performing in recitals since I was six, Demyx. The only difference here is that I'm playing in front of my _friends_ instead of my parents."

"Do you know a lot of people here?" Demyx failed at keeping the surprise from his tone. He knew very little about the slate haired boy's life outside of their little band and Arpeggio. Zexion seemed amused by his surprise.

"Half the ChemE department is here. Leon and I have had classes together since freshman year, my lab partner is sitting on the back of the couch over there, and my roommate just walked in. You know, Demyx, this is probably not the first time we are both at the same party."

_What a waste of previous parties, then_, Demyx wanted to say. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, offering a hand to the nauseous-looking redhead on Zexion's other side.

"Come on, let's get this shit over with. I'll make a deal with you, Ax. You perform a flawless set and I'll let you do a keg stand when you're done. That way you won't have to remember doing the show."

The singer let his roommate haul him to his feet, climbing wordlessly onto the platform they'd just been sitting on. Zexion raised an eyebrow, taking the hand Demyx offered him next. The skin on the blond's palm tingled.

"One keg stand is all it takes?"

Demyx snorted, lifting his guitar strap and settling his guitar around his neck. Zexion clambered up on the stage behind him, dropping gracefully onto the waiting stool.

"You've never seen Axel do a keg stand. Just wait."

Demyx was waiting for a smirk, but was instead treated to small smile and an alarmingly cute noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Zexion brushed his bangs out of his face and glanced up at the guitarist plugging his guitar into the amp, meeting the sea-glass blue eyes with both of his own. Demyx breath caught in his throat, fingers fumbling with the plug.

"Don't be nervous, Demyx. You'll be great."

Demyx _beamed_.

Zexion shook his head and his hair fell forward again, blocking his gaze as he turned pointedly to study the kit before him. Demyx picked his way to the front of the stage, eyes scanning through the crowd until he found the blond he'd been looking for.

Roxas, hanging over some black haired skank, looked as though he'd recently avoided a head on collision with a truck. His mouth was slack and his jaw hung open, eyes glossing over as he _gaped_ up at the stage. Axel cleared his throat, mouth against the microphone, and the blond in the audience turned an alarming shade of red, chugging his drink as though the answer to life was written on the bottom of the Solo cup. Demyx struggled with the desire to break into a victory dance right there on stage.

"Did you see his face?" He hissed in Axel's ear, careful to keep his voice low enough to avoid the mic. Axel swatted him away, but the glimmer of _hope_ sparking in those green eyes was enough to placate the guitarist. Nervousness banished by his newfound progress, Demyx let his fingers fly over the neck of the guitar, teasing out a few notes as he waited for Axel to quit hamming up their introduction. Roxas had disappeared, a flash of blond near the kitchen maybe, but that only made Demyx smile wider. The blond couldn't even bear to _watch_ Axel. He wanted to grab the mic and scream _denial_ until Roxas finally caved.

Axel would wrap the mic cord around his neck before Roxas even made it that far though, so Demyx abandoned that idea. Instead, because really, what else was there to do, Demyx _played_.

It was magic. The audience loved them, _Demyx _loved them. They were on fire, the three of them, meshing seamlessly together as they played their way steadily through the entire hour long set. Demyx lost track of Roxas, lost track of time, lost track of _everything_ that wasn't the hum of his guitar under his fingers, the lull of Axel's voice in his ears, and the pulse of Zexion's beat through his body. This was the _best feeling of his entire life_.

Too soon Axel was announcing their last song, and too soon Demyx was gesturing for Leon to roll the second keg out on stage, and too soon Axel launched himself into the crowd with _impressive _grace considering the amount of beer he'd just consumed. Their friends' cheers were deafening as Demyx and Zexion followed him off the stage, and Demyx had to shout right in Zexion's ear in order for the slate haired boy to hear him, but he still couldn't keep the grin off his face, even after it took them twenty five minutes to fight their way through the mass of supporters and into the kitchen.

The sight they were greeted with, however, stopped Demyx cold, the smile falling from his face. Zexion just barely avoided walking straight into his back. The slate haired boy lifted himself onto his toes, pressing against Demyx and leaning over the blond's shoulder to see what the fuss was about.

Axel, because who else could _possibly_ have hair that color red, had Roxas, because who _else_ would it be if Axel's involved, pinned to the wall in the kitchen, dwarfed by the redhead's tall stature. Roxas, if the hand tugging at the taller boy's hips was any indication, was wholeheartedly enjoying the attention.

"I assume _that_ is Roxas?"

Zexion's voice was low in Demyx' ear, and the puff of breath following the question sent shivers down the blond's spine. He backed hastily out of the kitchen, ushering the smaller boy along with him. He grabbed two full cups from the nearest person, ignored the cries of protest following him, and shoved his way through the crowd into the back hallway, far enough from the kitchen but still close enough to see the doorway.

"This is going to be a _disaster_. Axel's going to ruin _everything_." He moaned, glaring morosely at the cup of beer in his right hand. He passed the second cup to Zexion, whose fingers brushed against the blond's as he took the cup gently from the outstretched hand.

"I rather thought the whole point, Demyx, was for them to wind up such a…position."

"But this will ruin _everything_, Zex, it's too soon! Roxas can't possibly have come to terms with this in one drunken hour, he's going to _freak out_ tomorrow and then all the progress we've made tonight will be _wasted_ because he'll just regress even further back into the damn closet," Demyx ranted, voice rising almost hysterically, "and I've spent _two and a half years_ trying to figure out some subtle way to – hang on, did you just make a sexual innuendo?"

Zexion didn't respond, but the small smirk he was attempting to hide behind his Solo cup was enough of an answer for Demyx. The blond flushed, the image of two _different_ boys in a similar position rising unbidden to the surface of his thoughts.

"Never knew you had it in you, Zexion."

The smirk on Zexion's face grew wider, and the flush on Demyx' face spread from his cheeks down his neck. He really needed to stop talking.

"Do you feel better now?"

The blond considered the smaller boy, whose face had relaxed into a small smile as he watched Demyx carefully. The taller boy nodded, slumping back against the wall. He still felt cheated.

"I think they will be fine, Demyx. In fact, I would be willing to bet you $100 that tonight ultimately winds up being the catalyst that causes Roxas to come to terms with his feelings."

"No way. Maybe if Axel's lucky he'll get a drunken one night stand tonight, but come tomorrow morning he'll be lucky if Roxas even _speaks_ to him."

And as if they had been waiting for a cue Axel and Roxas came stumbling out of the kitchen, fighting their way towards the back door. Axel had an arm slung over Roxas' shoulder, holding him close as they pushed people out of their way. Roxas' arms were both wrapped around the redhead's skinny waist, and as they watched the blond pressed himself even closer to the taller boy, biting at his jaw. Demyx was shocked they made it out of the party unnoticed; he was certain that had anyone noticed Axel _finally_ leaving a party _with_ with Roxas, the uproar would be epic.

"Doomed, Zex. Doomed."

"$100, Demyx. $100 that this night is the reason they get together. If they're not together in…two months, I will hand you a $100 bill."

Demyx tore his eyes away from the door Axel and Roxas had disappeared through, turning to face the slate haired boy next to him. Zexion stood at Demyx shoulder, close enough that Demyx could feel the heat from the other boy's arm. He held his free hand out to the blond, serious enough to shake on their bet.

Demyx considered his options for barely a heartbeat. $100 was a lot of money, especially for a college student, but there was a chance it was _his_, and even if it wasn't it guaranteed him that Zexion would still be speaking to him in two months time…

For the second time that night Demyx slid his fingers into Zexion's hand, relishing the _rare_ skin to skin contact, the soft skin and rough calluses and tingling warmth against his palm. They lingered just slightly longer than necessary, and Demyx was _certain_ he didn't imagine the way Zexion held his hand for just a second too long.

---

"Dem. Demyx, wake the fuck up. _Dem_."

Demyx swatted at the hands roughly shaking him, mumbling incoherently as he tried to burrow further under the covers. He cursed as those were ripped from his hands, cold air biting his skin until his eyes jerked roughly open. He scrubbed the heels of his palms against his eyelids, cursing the day he'd agreed to live with Axel. Axel…

"Oh. Oh, Axel. Dear god, please tell me you're not just getting back _now_."

Axel dropped the covers back onto the bed and shoved the blond aside, crawling into the space next to him. Demyx straightened the blankets and pulled them up over the pair, tucking the edges around the redhead as he curled in on himself. The blond reached one arm around his shaking roommate, who immediately pillowed his head on the proffered limb.

"What am I going to _do_, Dem?" Axel's voice was hoarse, rough, from singing yes, but also, Demyx suspected, from the same thing that had left streaks of eyeliner tracking down his roommate's face.

"What happened?" He asked quietly. Axel sniffed, nuzzling the bridge of his nose against Demyx' shoulder, and the blue eyed boy let him.

"Roxas and I…we…"

Demyx had never heard Axel's voice quite like _this_.

"Please, please, Axel…don't say you had sex with him."

"NO. No. We hooked up. Made out, I guess, since we both passed out before things got out of control. But seriously, Dem. What am I going to do? He's never going to talk to me again. I might as well have _raped_ him."

"You did _not_." Demyx glared at his roommate, firmly holding his gaze until the tearful green eyes cracked open enough to meet his. "Things looked _very_ consensual from where I was standing."

Axel didn't ask for Demyx to elaborate on why he felt qualified to say so with such conviction. He pressed his face further into Demyx' shoulder, his voice muffled against the blond's skin.

"He was drunker than I've ever seen him, Demyx. So what if he wanted it then, he's not going to when he wakes up."

"You don't know that, Ax."

Axel glanced up at him, and the sight of his roommate, black and purple tearstained cheeks, swollen lips, hickey the size of a small apple staining what Demyx could see of his collarbone, absolutely _broke Demyx' heart_. He brushed one hand absently, soothingly, through the long red hair. The blond had much preferred the spark of hope that had been in the green eyes last night.

"I snuck out before he woke up. At least then he'll have some time to, I don't know, get it together? Sora caught me leaving, but I made him swear not to say anything to Roxas about it."

Demyx just nodded, fingers still tangled in the red spikes. He decided that now wasn't the best moment to point out that the black Say Anything shirt Axel had been wearing last night had magically transformed into a black 30 Seconds to Mars shirt instead.

"He's going to kill me, Dem. He's going to kill me, and even though it's going to destroy me, I can't bring myself to regret it, because it was every fucking fantasy I've ever had rolled into one. It was _better_." The redhead laughed humorlessly.

"Roxas isn't going to wake up any time soon, though, is he?"

Axel considered for a moment, gnawing on his pierced lip. He shook his head, the tips of his spikes tickling Demyx' forearm.

"Roxas thinks eleven AM is the crack of dawn."

"Then you have a solid four hours until judgment day, yeah? So how about we go back to sleep? Sleep on it, you know? At least then if he crucifies you, you won't be so hungover when he does it. Screaming does awful things for the hungover brain."

They may have gotten some sleep, but if they did it was fitful, restless; Demyx spent more time fidgeting than actually sleeping. Axel didn't move. He breathed, his heartbeat surprisingly calm, but other than shifting his head to compensate for Demyx' moving his arm, the redhead spent the next four hours straight in the kind of agonizing silence reserved for a man due to the gallows.

The sound of Axel's phone accepting a text message, the personalized ringtone of Roxas' favorite song, may as well have been a cymbal crashed in the miniscule space between their heads. Both boys jumped immediately into action, scrambling over each other to find Axel's phone somewhere in the tangle of sheets. The redhead, breathless and pale, read the text message aloud.

"'Greasy diner eggs slash recap of adventures? I can't remember a damn thing, can you?' He doesn't _remember_."

"Fuck, Ax, that sucks, I'm so –"

"This is _brilliant_, Demyx. He doesn't _remember_."

Demyx pulled slightly away from his crazy-eyed roommate, studying his face with a speculative look. Perhaps Axel was still drunk, or maybe this was the proverbial calm before the storm; the sanity before the raging hysterics.

"Axel, maybe –"

"Dem, he was going to rip my dick off and serve it to me on a silver platter. He gets mad if you so much as glance suggestively at his Wall of RockSex Gods, imagine his reaction to finding out he had his _very, very male_ best friend pinned to a wall with his lips. That boy's so far in the closet he's spending quality time with Narnians."

Demyx considered this for a moment. This whole Roxas-not-remembering thing did have a certain Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind appeal to it…but hadn't that movie ended in a bit of a disaster clusterfuck?

"So what, you're just…not going to tell him?"

"Nope. He'll _never know_." And distraught, empty Axel was gone, replaced by an alarmingly bubbly, cheerful, plastic version of Demyx' redheaded roommate. He bounced from the blond's bed and sang his way into the shower, gleeful with the weight of sudden death cut from the noose around his neck.

Demyx wasn't quite as optimistic. There were too many variables, too many people in the know; too many opportunities for somebody to slip and trigger something in Roxas' (very, very closeted) subconscious. And he had forgotten to warn Axel about the magical shirt transformation. Balls. The redhead was gone, practically skipping out the door, but Demyx kept his phone practically glued to his hand as he got ready and walked to work, just in case the shit hit the fan. His phone stayed silent though, and once he made it to Arpeggio he went to reluctantly stored his cell in the register drawer.

His reluctance died a blissfully painless death the moment he saw the counter, the register hidden behind a head of slate gray hair and a single silver eye. Zexion stood leaning casually against the glass display case, arms crossed over his pale blue t-shirt.

"You're late," he grumbled in way of greeting. Demyx bit back a grin. Had the drummer been waiting specifically for him?

"I wasn't expecting anyone to be watching the clock. It's a Saturday."

Zexion _blushed_, and Demyx was fairly certain that he had died and gone to some magical heaven, a land in which Zexion blushed and stuttered and fidgeted with his hair because he was nervous, because he liked Demyx just as much as the blond liked him.

"It's midterms this week," Zexion mumbled, answering the implied question, "I don't think I'll have much time to play."

Any warmth Demyx felt at the sight of the drummer waiting for him faded with the glum realization that he wouldn't see the slate haired boy for a week. Zexion, a ChemE with a loaded course schedule, probably had an exam in every class. Demyx, on the other hand, a music major with a fairly light course load, had compositions due and playing exams in lieu of written tests, all of which were laughably easy for him. Exam weeks were always painfully dull and lonely for him.

"I wanted to see yo—how things wound up with Axel and Roxas."

Zexion wouldn't look him in the eye, pointedly fixated on a spot near Demyx' left shoulder. The faint tinge of pink had returned to his exposed cheekbone. The blond wondered what would happen if he took his finger and dragged it gently across the stain.

"Roxas doesn't remember anything. Axel considers that a gift from fate and has decided to pretend it never happened. I believe you owe me $100. I accept cash, check, or chocolate."

The silver eye crinkled as his lip quirked in a small smile, the blush fading slightly. Demyx watched it go sadly, masking his disappointment.

"_I_ believe I said two months. Do you genuinely believe Roxas will not find out about this? There must have been 100 people at that party; someone other than us must have seen."

Demyx vaguely acknowledged that there had been a question in there somewhere, but he was focused too entirely on the way Zexion had said "us." He liked it, liked the way the slate haired boy had said "us," as though they had shared this moment together. He wanted to hear more plurals rolling from the other boy's pink lips; "our friends," "we have plans…"

Zexion cleared his throat, and this time it was Demyx' face burning red. The shorter boy had finally turned his faze on the blond's face, and he seemed to be waiting for something. Demyx wracked his brain.

"Oh! Well, no. I think the whole thing will blow up rather spectacularly in their faces, actually. Hopefully there will be fireworks. And enough time for us to pop up a bowl of popcorn."

Zexion smirked and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the ding of the bell hanging above the store's entrance. Demyx bit back a groan as he turned to face the new customer, watching Zexion go out of the corner of his blue-green eyes. He settled himself at an upright piano instead of his usual kit, and Demyx found himself unable to wipe the smile from his face at the slate haired boy of his dreams provided a gentle soundtrack to the rest of Demyx' day.

---

Thank _God_ it was Friday. Demyx was so pleased he could barely contain himself. He'd even made a cheesy pop playlist to celebrate the freedom of his friends and the resurrection of his social life; TGIF by The Secret Handshake, Friday Night by the Click Five, Just Got Paid by N*SYNC. It was to this last song Demyx was dancing, rather exuberantly, when an amused voice at his back stopped him cold.

"I thought the party didn't start until nine o'clock. Not that I would know, I don't believe I received an invitation from you."

He was startled. He was startled and he was excited, and it had been a long, lonely week, and he had _really missed Zexion_, which was really the only acceptable excuse for why he'd flung his arms around the slate haired drummer and hugged him like they'd been separated for months, not days. The shorter boy, shockingly, amazingly, delightfully, wrapped his arms lightly around Demyx' waist and applied gentle pressure in return.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had exams? Of course you're invited tonight, I tried to call you but I don't have you cell phone number, and I don't know where you hang out when you're not here and you weren't here. I even tried to facebook stalk you but of course you're the only person in the entire world that doesn't mmph –"

There was a hand clamped firmly over his mouth, effectively silencing him, and Demyx was so startled that it took him a moment to realize that it was Zexion's. The visible silver eye twinkled in amusement, still only inches from the guitarist's own face. He blushed and released his hold on the smaller boy's neck, putting a step or two of distance between their bodies. Demyx believed he imagined the slightly put-out look on Zexion's pale face.

"There must be a more effective way of shutting you up," Zexion mumbled, but his lips still curled in the warmest smile Demyx had seen to date. The blond's blush, upon hearing those words, darkened exponentially.

"Thankfully," the slate haired drummer went on, "Axel is not nearly as incompetent as you are, and sent me an email three days ago. I'm supplying one of the tables."

"Oh! Well…good." Demyx rubbed at the back of his neck, willing the blazing inferno on his face to _calm the fuck down_. "I still wish I'd asked you myself. I wanted you to be my beruit partner."

Zexion leveled him with a sharp look, and for a half a second Demyx could see the matching set of silver crystal that were Zexion's eyes. He sometimes thought that if he could, he would spend an entire afternoon just brushing the bangs back out of the smaller boy's face, just for the pleasure of looking the slate haired boy in both eyes.

"Of course, Demyx, who else would I possibly want to play with? Besides, I hear you're quite…talented with those hands."

It was Zexion. It was Zexion, and he always had this oddly formal way of speaking, and his tone was perfectly casual. Besides, he just _didn't make_ sexual innuendos. But if had been _anyone else_, speaking in that low tone, the subtle pause, the pointed glance at the aforementioned hands; anyone else and it would have absolutely, undeniably, been a double entendre.

Demyx…didn't know how to react. He shuffled his weight from foot to foot, cleared his throat, carded his fingers through his hair, searching for a proper reaction. Zexion smirked at him like the cat that ate the cream when his owner wasn't looking.

"Y-yeah, awesome. We'll dominate. You uh…you want your sticks? Or –"

"I'm late for dinner, actually. I just wanted to come say hi."

Who _was_ this, this person with Zexion's hair and Zexion's eyes and Zexion's quirky smirk, because it _certainly_ was not a Zexion Demyx had ever encountered before. He was assertive, suggestive, leaned in to Demyx' touch and smiled at him with both eyes. Demyx was _entirely overwhelmed_, and, admittedly, mildly turned on.

And then, just as Demyx was about to open his mouth, force something coherent between his lips, and then scramble madly to beg his boss to let him leave early, Zexion leaned forward and pressed the barest hint of a kiss to the apple of Demyx' cheekbone before turning on his heel and walking straight out the door without a backwards glance.

Zexion left him speechless.

---

Somewhat unsurprisingly, or the mother of all surprises, depending on who you asked, Demyx and Zexion dropped out in the first round of the tournament, losing rather spectacularly to Riku and Sora, who beat them with five of their ten cups still on the table. Xigbar, Demyx' freshman year roommate, shook his head disgustedly, and Axel made a production of feeling Demyx' forehead for a near-fatal fever, but _honestly_, how did anyone expect Demyx to be able to concentrate? Certainly not with Zexion, oozing casual sex appeal in fitted black jeans and a soft, washed-out-lavender sort of sweater, hovering rather close to his unoccupied arm.

Casual, assertive Zexion from Arpeggio's that afternoon had gone as quickly as he'd come, replaced once again by the quiet, unassuming boy Demyx had fallen so completely head over heels for. Most of Zexion's and Axel's mutual friends, Leon, Vexen, Lexaeus, had been unable to make the party, and so Zexion seemed slightly out of place, thrown haphazardly into the mixture of loud, boisterous friends who'd known each other for years. Demyx felt the increasingly growing urge to wrap an arm around the smaller boy's waist, blending him into the group through pure osmosis.

Naturally, with so many distractions standing so close, Demyx didn't hit a single cup the entire game. Sora and Riku mocked him for approximately ten minutes, but Zexion, bless him, just wordlessly handed the blond a brimming cup of beer, hovering close as the taller boy gulped it down in one long chug. He had a sinking suspicion he was going to need a lot more of these if he was going to make it through the night.

And he was right. Demyx was on edge, downing drink after drink in a desperate attempt to blur the sharp pieces of his mood with the mellow atmosphere of the room. Zexion and Roxas had developed some kind of buzzed camaraderie, most likely the result of mutual emo-ness and being vertically challenged, but then Roxas and Axel started moving up in the brackets, causing Roxas to spend less time mocking people with the drummer and more time surreptitiously trying to sneak glances at Axel in the most alarmingly obvious manner possible. This was all well and good for Operation: Lead Roxas Out of Narnia, but left Demyx alone with a buzzed and, oh god, _giggly_ Zexion that was cute enough to cuddle.

He needed another drink, and he needed to breathe, and he needed to get away from the congregated mass of his very _best_ friends, all of whom could pin Demyx' thoughts to the wall in a _heartbeat_ if they looked at him for a second too long. Axel was getting drunker by the minute, and even Xigbar was glancing at him as though he'd like to pick the blond's brain. Demyx drained his cup and heaved himself up off the couch, ignoring the questioning pique from Zexion as he stalked silently away, worming his way through the overflow of tables as he moved steadily towards the kitchen.

The kitchen was blissfully empty; the excitement centered on the first of two semi-final games raging in the living room, Riku and Sora versus Olette and Hayner, kept most of the party packed around the beruit table, cheering and jeering as the two teams battled for the most prestigious of all college titles.

Demyx opened the fridge, digging through the cases of Natty Light in favor of his secret stash hidden at the back of the bottom shelf, a six pack of his favorite, just for moments like this. He was deep enough in the hum of the cold refrigerator that he didn't hear the soft fall of footsteps behind him, didn't notice the familiar scent of Fierce and soap and the faint bite of chemicals until he had pulled himself up and slammed the door shut.

Zexion stood in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, biting the corner of his lip and his determined gaze fell somewhere short of Demyx' face. His face and neck were flushed, though Demyx couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or alcohol staining his skin. He looked nervous, and he looked kissable. The kitchen that had seemed so spacious just moments before suddenly felt cramped, overwhelming.

He needed to kick this, before it became obvious, before it became uncomfortable, before he did something as stupid as Axel and ruined a perfectly good friendship with the boy of his dreams by being a drunk asshole. Zexion's mere presence in the same room as him caused the blond's breath to hitch and jeans to grow painfully tight; how could the intelligent engineer possibly miss the pure lust Demyx seemed unable to keep out of his stare?

"Are you alright?" Zexion's voice was quiet, tense, and made Demyx' wince. The slate haired boy seemed even more awkward than usual, and Demyx was almost certain it was because of his behavior that evening.

"Totally. Just needed another beer," Demyx injected his voice with as much casual ease as he could muster, gesturing to the bottle he was dangling between his fingers. He crossed the kitchen and began groping through the drawer for a bottle opener, face tense as he waited for the drummer to speak again.

"Are you sure? You just seem…uncomfortable. It's not – is it, perhaps, something I did? To make you uncomfortable?"

And Demyx, bottle opener halfway to his beer, froze. Zexion was quiet, Zexion was soft spoken, Zexion was reserved, but Zexion had never before been so _self-conscious_. Demyx raked through his thoughts, scrambling to find what _possible_ moment Zexion could be referring to, a moment tonight when the slate haired boy had done something even more egregious than oogle Demyx like he was something good to eat, as Demyx had been doing all night. Demyx was at a loss, drawing a complete blank.

He turned, carefully placing the bottle and the bottle opener back on the countertop, just in time to see Zexion's fingers brush against his bare cheek, and understanding hit the blond with sudden clarity, despite the haze of alcohol surrounding him. Zexion thought _he_ had made _Demyx_ uncomfortable when he kissed him goodbye, and Demyx had done nothing but act like a prickly asshole all evening, awkward and short tempered in a poor attempt to hide his desire for the drummer. He felt positively _awful_.

"I'm sorry, Zexion."

The smaller boy looked mildly alarmed, and Demyx rushed to continue, lest he get the wrong idea.

"I didn't realize how my bitchy drama queen behavior would seem to you. Believe me when I say _nothing_ you've done has made me uncomfortable. Not like that."

Zexion studied him carefully, appraisingly, and Demyx waited patiently. The slate haired boy looked relieved, significantly less nervous, but still tense, shoulders squared, as though steeling himself for something. He downed the remainder of his drink and set the empty glass on the table by the door before taking a step forward, closing the gap between them by one small step. He seemed determined, and suddenly Demyx saw a glimpse of the boy from that afternoon gleaming in one pale, visible eye.

"I have a drum set at home that is twice the size of the one on display in Arpeggio."

Demyx blinked. He considered this apparent non sequitur, muddling through a beer-soaked brain as he attempted to make sense of this comment.

"Then why –"

"The first day I came in just looking to buy a new pair of sticks. Instead I saw you. The second was to convince myself that you weren't _nearly_ as gorgeous as I'd remembered, and the third was to prove to myself that since you clearly _were_ that gorgeous, you must have some other fatal flaw that would surface after brief conversation."

Zexion took another step, closing slightly more of the distance between them. Demyx worked on keeping his breathing at a normal, human pace.

"Naturally, you refused to conform to any preconceived notions I had and instead proved to be alarmingly perfect in every way. Engaging, entertaining, intelligent, one of the most talented musicians I've ever met. Stun –"

But Demyx had grown tired of waiting for the smaller boy to finish crossing the gap between them. He closed the distance with two long strides, stepping right into the drummer's personal space and bringing his hands up to curl around Zexion's neck, holding the other boy still. His mouth closed with an audible snap, silver eye staring unblinkingly into Demyx' own sea glass gaze.

The blond reached one hand up and brushed the slate colored bangs back from Zexion's pale face, basking in the revelation of a second sharp cheekbone, more smooth, pale skin, and the other half of that brilliantly silver stare.

"I'm pretty sure," he said quietly, firmly, leaving no room for negotiation or misinterpretation, "that I have been in love with you since the first time I handed you a pair of sticks."

The _smile_ that lit Zexion's entire face was so _blindingly beautiful_ that Demyx was almost reluctant to kiss him, desperate to hold on to that exquisite expression for as long as humanly possible. But the temptation to kiss those invitingly pink lips was entirely too great to resist, and so, Demyx reasoned, he could always kiss him now and make Zexion smile like that again later. And as he lowered his lips to the smaller boy's waiting smile, he resolved to do just that.

---

Epilogue

---

"Something occurred to me today."

Demyx glanced down at the head resting lightly on his chest, vision slightly obscured by damp, dark slate hair. He ran his fingers absentmindedly through the slippery wet strands, humming in response to Zexion's sudden observation.

They were curled together in a tangle of pale, wet limbs, sprawled across the dark sheets on Zexion's bed. Demyx had graciously offered Axel and Roxas the apartment for, if their little exhibitionist act on stage tonight had been any indication, an evening of fantastic sex for the record books, and had instead gone home with Zexion. The drummer had attempted to wash off the thick scent of the club the moment they'd arrived at his apartment, but Demyx had gotten impatient, and then wet, and then both boys entirely forgot the original purpose of the shower as they put their time to much, _much _better use. Zexion had mumbled something half an hour ago about actually showering this time, but neither had yet developed the will to move.

"What's that?"

"When you cooked up this harebrained scheme to _start a band_, were you actually attempting to kill two birds with one stone?"

Demyx smirked, ruffling the hair under his fingers as he leaned forward to press a kiss to the crown of Zexion's head.

"Axel wanted a boy with a thing for lead singers, I wanted a boy with a thing for playing the drums. How convenient that both seemed to fit so seamlessly into one master plan."

Zexion was silent for a minute or two, the air between them calm and relaxed as the smaller boy contemplated what the guitarist had said. Demyx waited patiently, certain that this wasn't all the slate haired boy had to say on the subject.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

Demyx was only half surprised by the seemingly abrupt subject change. Zexion's brilliance often took him from A straight through to G, blazing right through the other stops along the way, and it was easier for Demyx to roll with the thought process, rather than just trying to figure it out.

"Nothing yet. Did you have something in mind?"

Zexion pressed a hand against the blond's chest, pushing himself upright and twisting, smirking at the boy now pinned beneath him.

"I recently won a bet," Zexion commented offhandedly, "and now have a fresh new $100 bill to do with whatever I choose."

Demyx rolled his eyes good naturedly, wrapping an arm around the slate haired boy's neck and tugging him down, closer.

"And what do you plan to do with your newfound riches?"

Zexion smiled and pressed even closer, lowering his lips to brush along Demyx' jaw.

"I'm going to find the most expensive restaurant in town and take my boyfriend out to dinner," he whispered against the tan flesh of Demyx' neck, "and then I'm going to take him home for wild, wonderfully good celebration sex."

"What are we celebrating, exactly?" Demyx murmured, arching his back and tilting his head, exposing more of his neck to his silver eyed boyfriend.

"We are celebrating," Zexion said calmly, punctuating each word with a kiss, "the fact that your ridiculous, outlandish, preposterous scheme _worked_."

---

love love love I want your lovee (reviews).


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